Invertebrate
by Bob Rhynoplasty
Summary: An incident with the pop star patient sends House and Chase in a showdown of just whose more annoying. House/Chase slight slash.


**Invertebrate**

_Summary: An incident with the pop star patient sends House and Chase in a showdown of just __whose__ more annoying. House/Chase slight slash._

_Disclaimer__: If I owned the show, Chase never would have been fired (__unjustice__!), and Cameron never would have quit. I'd bring up Foreman, but since he's back on the team, I figure it's not even worth mentioning._

_Author's Note: Again, they are a bit out of character, but I tried my __darndest__ to keep them themselves. __Didn't work too well._

_Author's Note 2: This is the sequel to __**Backbone**__, if you haven't read that one then you probably won't get this story. Still takes place somewhere in season three, so wherever you feel comfortable throwing it is where it belongs._

_And onto the __fic_

_Sarcoidosis._

Autoimmune wasn't even on the list! House was sure the man had done it to himself. I mean, how many people have sex with over three hundred people in a year and come back without even so much as gonorrhea?! It was absolutely insane.

But the patient had sarcoidosis. Sarcoid was probably almost as bad as Lupus. They kept suggesting it, but it never was the thing killing the patient. And now, now they had sarcoidosis. If that wasn't weird, then he didn't know what was.

And the kiss ass' balls hadn't fallen off yet.

Wait, he stopped to think about that. That didn't make any sense. He was _supposedly_ male – although it was questionable, he was just too pretty to have never been a woman – so he should have testicles. But then it took over three years for him to finally metaphorically grow a pair, and he still hadn't lost that. And he insisted on throwing something cocky at House every chance he got. It annoyed the hell out of the older man. The kiss-ass was a kiss-ass for a reason. Being cocky and trying to humiliate your boss at every chance was not in the job description.

And yet it was still oh so sexy.

"How did a guy who has sex with over three hundred women not have an STD?" Cameron asked incredulously after they had discovered the diagnosis.

_I think it was actually more three hundred men_, he thought bitterly. He still didn't like the fact that the sick pop star got felt up by House's sexual fantasy guy. But what he hated the most was the fact that Sexual Fantasy Guy gave Pop Star a hard on.

"He's he's got the 'Luck of the Irish.'" House said with as much cheeriness that he could muster. "Chase, he seems to like you," that earned him a glare. "Go get your autograph, discharge and tell him to play the lottery." Chase walked off without saying a word. But House had to notice that he didn't grab his lab coat. He also noticed that Chase's pants looked a tad bit tighter than usual.

Nice, he was able to annoy him without having to say a word.

**Five Minutes Later**

Chase walked into the patient's room, his hands instinctively went to the pockets of his lab coat, but instead his hands were met with denim. He looked down and noticed for the first time he had left his lab coat back in the conference room.

He silently cursed under his breath. He had just done laundry, and his clothes always were tighter after they were freshly washed. And his jeans were just a little too tight to be considered comfortable around this patient. Particularly after the boner incident, Billy resorted to flirting as much as possible.

"Hey Billy, how are you feeling?" he said with a fake smile. Billy looked up from the bed and immediately flashed Chase his brightest smile.

"Dr. Chase!" he said by way of greeting. "It's great to see you." He paused for a bit and just stared. Finally, after what seemed like forever to the young doctor who was growing more and more uncomfortable, Billy finally remembered the question. "I'm doing great. Can't wait to get back to work." He jumped off the bed.

Chase coughed loudly to cover up the laugh about to explode from inside him. He knew that Billy was admitted after collapsing during a concert, he just didn't expect the outfit from the concert.

Had anyone been nice, they would have brought the singer new clothes so he could burn his Elvis impersonator look. Tight, form fitting bell bottom pants with giants strips of sparkle along the seams. His shirt looked about two sizes too tight and his jacket had the same cheesy design as the pants. Chase was completely surprised he was able to hold back the gut wrenching hysterics.

Billy looked down at himself and shrugged. "The girls seem to like it." When he looked back up he stared directly into Chase's eyes. A look that could only be described as a _leer_ spread across his face. Chase shifted his gaze to the wheelchair in front of him.

"Well, ready to be discharged?" he said, still trying to sound cheery. In reality he wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of the room. Why couldn't Cameron do this? He wouldn't flirt with her. Of course, then she'd probably spend the next week questioning everybody as to why he didn't. Foreman could do it. Billy wouldn't flirt with him either. And he wouldn't be upset by that detail.

"Would you like to get some dinner sometime?" Chase was ripped out of his thoughts by the sound of Billy's voice. His jaw dropped open, and his face paled about three shades, but Billy didn't seem to notice. If he did, he probably just thought that the doctor couldn't believe he was being asked out by some famous pop star.

He clasped his mouth shut and shook his head three times exactly. "Sorry," he added with a shrug of the shoulders.

Billy climbed into the wheelchair, still leering. Chase grabbed the handles of the chair and started to wheel him out of the room. "Because you're not allowed to date patients, or because you're in love with someone else?" Chase rolled his eyes.

"Or, because I'm not gay."

Billy just chuckled. "Please, you are far too pretty to be straight." Why does everybody keep saying that? "And the hair's a dead giveaway." Chase stopped the chair.

"My hair tells you that I'm gay?" he asked incredulously. How did his hair tell this weirdo with an extremely sensitive groin (turns out the erection wasn't a symptom. And yet House never humiliated him about it) that he was gay?

"It's too perfect. Which means that you probably spend at least an hour making it perfect, and I have never met a straight man who spends that much time on his hair?" Chase started wheeling his once again towards the elevator.

"Do you actually know that many straight men?"

"All the other guys in the group were one hundred percent flame free." Chase had to stop and think about the wording of that one. Then he had to stop and think about what he had just heard.

"Seriously?" His voice rose at least two octaves by the end of that one word, but he didn't care. There was no way he just told him the truth.

Billy just chuckled as the elevator finally arrived. "You know, everybody always makes jokes about how boybanders are gay. I mean you have no idea just how many people seem to think the five of us were engaging in orgies with each other or something." Chase shifted in his feet uncomfortably as the lift finally started to move. "And yet if I ever came out of the closet a million people would just laugh and say "oh how cliché, the boybander's a fairy."" He chuckled.

"I'd think they'd be more upset if they knew just how many men you've slept with."

That earned another chuckle. "If you go to dinner with me tonight, I'd end all my trysts officially." He tilted his head back so he could look Chase directly in the face. His eyes showed just how serious he was. "Three hundred one was always my lucky number."

Chase looked up just as the doors opened on the first floor. "Still not gay."

**Fifteen Minutes Later**

Chase walked into the conference room visibly shaken. Right before he walked out of the building, Billy did the unthinkable. At least for Chase.

He sat down at the table, staring off into space. His lip was tender to the touch. He suddenly wondered how Billy convinced three hundred people to sleep with him.

"Chase?" he jerked his head up to come face to face with Cameron. She had a look of worry mixed with confusion etched on her face. "Are you alright?" he wanted to scream out that no, he wasn't, he was completely pissed off, and…violated! He wanted to crawl up on his couch, rocking back and forth till the memory finally faded.

But instead he just nodded. Sometimes he really felt like a chump. "I'm fine."

"You look paler than usual," Foreman butted in. there was no worry on _his_ face. Just curiosity. Chase rolled his eyes as nonchalantly as possible.

"I didn't know you cared." He stood up to get a cup of coffee when suddenly Wilson burst into the room.

"Chase! What the hell were you thinking hitting a patient?!" He screamed. Chase internally groaned. This was the last thing he needed; a lecture from Mr. Damn Conscience. "If he decides to sue you!" he pauses. "Or worse, files assault charges."

"It was a reflex move!" He knew he didn't sound very convincing. If anything, he sounded like even more of a chump. But really, he hadn't intended to hit the guy. It just sort of happened.

That was his story and he was sticking to it.

"I'd like to see what you would have done in my position!" That wasn't any better, but considering that Cameron and Foreman were still in the room, he didn't want to give an actual reason why he just hit a discharged patient.

"I wouldn't have hit him!"

"No, you probably would have enjoyed it too much to do that!" He was shouting now. Why, he wasn't sure, but damn it did he want to. Wilson glared at him.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Everybody's eyes turned towards House as he stood at the doorway connecting his office to the conference room.

"Chase hit your patient!" Wilson yelled. House turned to look at the blond doctor, who was looking at the floor, avoiding everybody's gaze.

"Did he fall down? Cry? Bleed?" House said nonchalantly.

"All of the above." Wilson's volume finally lowered a few notches. House looked back to Chase with a look of fatherly pride on his face.

"Nice." Because of that one word, Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose, Foreman chuckled, Cameron looked disgusted, and Chase finally brought his head up in complete shock. "So what he do? Kiss you?"

Chase said nothing, but pale skin grew about eight shades redder.

The room was silent for what felt like forever. In reality, unfortunately, it only lasted about five seconds before House killed it. "Oh! My! Gawd!" He dropped his cane.

The blond looked around the room gauging everyone's reaction. Wilson already knew, so he wasn't in shock. Cameron brought her hands up to her mouth most likely to cover her laughter. Foreman, totally out of character for him, doubled over laughing. The last time anybody saw him that happy was when he was dying of a parasite eating away at his brain.

Chase suddenly missed those days.

"Was there tongue?" Chase again didn't say a word, signaling 'yes' with his silence. Cameron snorted into her hands. Twas very unladylike. He looked back at House. His face was totally laughable, mouth down to the floor like the wolf in those old slutty Little Red Riding Hood cartoons, shoulders hung, and that whole, 'lost grip on his cane so now his hands hang limply to the sides' thingy. But his eyes let on something completely different. Jealousy? Anger?

Interesting.

Chase hid his interest in his boss' reaction as well as possible. Instead, he turned towards the door and walked out. House's eyes following him the entire time.

Ok, they were following his ass more specifically.

Chase stormed into the locker room, fuming. "Fucking pop stars!" he mumbled.

"It's thinking like that that got you into this mess." This time, he groaned out loud. That was the last voice he wanted to hear right now.

"What do you want House?" he wouldn't turn around.

"Quick question. You give a guy a boner –"

"I was checking for stomach pain!" he groans for what feels like the umpteenth time.

"And you freak out and decide you don't want to treat him. Then you go and "fuck with" your boss in a way that could only be concluded as flirty."

"I was not –"

"Yes you were. Anyways, now the patient kisses you –"

"Asked me on a date too."

House takes a moment before finishing the thought. He really hates this patient. He's making him so…unlike him. Even his thoughts sound stupid! He's thinking like some teenage girl. Pull it together. "you punch him and then run away like a fourteen year old girl."

"I thought you said you had a quick question." He was getting tired of all of this.

"Yup. If I kissed you right now, would you punch me, or try to have sex with me?" House said mockingly (ok, so he partially meant it, but Chase couldn't pick up on partially, even if his skills of perception were heightened). After these last few weeks with Chase becoming a tease with a set on him, it was nice to see his backbone dissolve. He was becoming his spineless ass kisser again. Which was good. The cocky, confident tease was annoying as all hell.

Only slightly sexy.

Chase looked back at House, and the older man's small victory was shattered. There was that damn cocky grin again. "That was a serious question, wasn't it?"

House was ready to shove his cane down the younger man's throat. "Uh-huh, this is your humiliation. So would you consider yourself a top? Or a bottom?"

Chase turned to look at him and crossed his arms across his chest. "What am I in your fantasies?" That was the last straw! House could handle the tighter fitting clothes – though sometimes he found that standing became impossible for at least thirty minutes on the days when he wore the jeans – and the cocky grins here and there, but to bring up the fantasies was going overboard!

"Oh geez, what the hell is up with this patient?" he nearly yelled in that tone that screamed "will you stop annoying me already!" "Ever since we took him on, you've grown a backbone, and think it's ok to mock _me_! Will you please go back to the quivering invertebrate so I can actually enjoy this?" Chase's grin just grew bigger the longer his shpeel went on. "Oh, now what?"

He just shrugged. "Nothing, I just think it's funny. I mean, you don't normally get this angry at me, it's usually Foreman." House rolled his eyes.

"If you keep this up, I really will kiss you."

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" He was still at it! House had to admit, this was not straight guy behavior. If he really was straight, he would have dropped the subject and went back to the crying puddle of mush he usually was. Ok, maybe he was never a crying puddle of mush, but he was pretty damn close! At least in House's opinion.

"Greatly." That should get him to shut up.

Chase knew that he should shut up. But it wasn't often that he got to piss off House this much. But he knew House wouldn't actually do it. And if he kept at it, who knew? Maybe he'd get House to lay off him for a bit. The last conversation did. After the erection problem and the confrontation in House's office, the insults about his hair, nationality and intelligence level was greatly lessened. A little more of this, and he'd be free for a month!

On the other hand, he could just get fired. Damn, he should stop.

"So seriously, which am I?" He asked again. He would never learn when to keep his mouth shut. He just knew it. "In your fantasies, am I the pitcher or the catcher? This I just have to know."

House stood there and glared at him for a moment. Chase smiled triumphantly. One more thing to make his second victory complete; walk out of the locker room. He pushed off the locker he was leaning on and started for the door that House was blocking. He spared him one quick glance before he kept walking. His hand was almost on the handle, when he felt something wrap around his elbow.

Suddenly he was pulled back into the room, and thrust closer to his boss.

The first thought to cross his mind was screaming at how many guys were going to kiss him before the day was done! Next Wilson and _Foreman_ would be grabbing him for their own make out session.

His second thought was about the major razor burn he was getting. House really needs to start shaving.

His third thought was wondering why he wasn't shoving House off and punching him like he did to Billy. It wasn't as though he were enjoying the kiss, he wasn't. But for some reason he wasn't as freaked out about it as he had been when it had been Billy. Of course, Billy used tongue. House didn't. small favors, he supposed.

When House finally let go, he had a huge grin on his face. Chase just stood there dumbfounded. He decided that the reason he wasn't freaked out was because he was still in shock. Billy had been trying to get into his pants all week. Whereas House – although he brought sexual harassment to a whole new level – never actually did anything, unless he had to pay for it. Cameron would have probably been in shock at this moment.

"I always pictured you as a bottom." House said finally. He released the other man's arm and casually limped out of the locker room as if nothing had just happened. He was suddenly happy for the first time in… possibly ever. He managed to successfully wipe that cocky grin off the blonde's face once and for all.

He wasn't lying when he said that Chase had a prettier mouth either, he also noted that it was softer than both Cuddy's and Cameron's. His smile widened.

"You're happy." Wilson nearly fell over himself when he finally walked into his gimpy friend. "Why are you happy?" Few things made House truly happy. On a scale of one to ten, he was ranking at probably an eleven.

House just kept walking. "The invertebrate's balls finally fell off." Wilson was left behind, possibly more confused than he's ever felt in the entire length of their friendship.


End file.
